


Give and Take

by verbaepulchellae



Series: Hip To It [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, I don't know what else to tell you, Pegging, Really Just Pure Smut, The return of Clarke's toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7678063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbaepulchellae/pseuds/verbaepulchellae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy has to clear his throat and he rubs Clarke’s head, reassuring her. “We can do other things too,” he reminds her. “You know I can still get you off or…” the idea comes to him and it actually makes his breath stall out. “Or, you could fuck me?”</p><p>Or: Clarke's Strap-on finally makes an appearance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give and Take

**Author's Note:**

> Excuse the entirely unimaginative title...
> 
> A HUGE Thank You to everyone who voted Picking Up What You're Laying Down (the fic that started it all) as Best Smutty Fiction in the Bellarke Fanfiction Awards 2016. I am still reeling with it, seriously, I'm just so honored.
> 
> And thank you to anyone who left kudos and comments on Sweet Talk! It's always so fun coming back to this 'verse, and I'm always so pleased when I know y'all are excited to be back as well. <3
> 
> Anyway, this is really just pure smut. Pure, "It's been a hot second and I missed you a lot" smut.

Bellamy swivels in his chair, leaning back as he squints at the last paragraph on the open document on his laptop. It’s decent, he decides. Better than decent, it’s good, a strong closing statement to the paper he’s given this weekend at the department symposium and Bellamy lets himself feel proud for a moment as he saves it and closes his laptop, maybe a little harder than he should. He rubs a hand over his face and blinks away the screen after-glare, stretches and feels his back protest- Octavia’s right, he needs to work on his posture. The brat.

It takes a moment for the realization to hit that he’s done, really done, except for a hopefully quick proofread tomorrow, and this last week from hell can finally be over. It’s been full of grading and extra meetings with his advisors and his own extended office hours, this symposium inopportunely timed to align with the semester’s midterms. With all the work and odd hours, the late night’s he’s had to pull, he hasn’t had time to see any of his friends, not even Octavia. Not even Clarke. 

She’s been busy too, putting the final touches on an art show in which Lincoln’s both featuring her and letting her take the lead on in organizing. Bellamy’s knows she’s excited about it, but it’s meant that they haven’t been able to see each other in the last week, as much as Bellamy wishes he could have been there to help mount and hang everything, remind her to breathe and feed her bites of takeout in between everything she’s had to do. Clarke’s show opens tomorrow, but she’s ahead of schedule and from the texts they’ve sent each other, it sounds like she’s finished the last details this morning. 

_I’m cooking dinner tonight_ , she’d sent him this morning, _you better finish your paper in time to join me._

That had been some pretty excellent motivation to get it done and as Bellamy packs up his laptop and notes, adds a little water to Persephone the Succulent’s pot, locks his office, he realizes how excited he is to see her. Well, he’s always excited to see Clarke, but after five days of nothing more than hurried texts and the phantom smell of her in his nose… yeah, he’s ready to see his girl.

November is mild this year, brisk but sunny and clear, the leaves crunching under Bellamy’s shoes as he makes the short walk to Clarke’s apartment from campus. He stops at the liquor store just so he can pick up a six pack of Clarke’s new favorite beer, a dark stout she’d discovered at a new dive bar they’d found a few weekends ago, bored with TonDC and DropShip. The Bunker is just a little too divey for Bellamy, but Clarke had liked it, eyes bright and curious as they’d people watched and her hand had rested comfortably on his knee. God, he misses her. It’s the little things, like the way she tucks herself into his side at night, curling up so that she fits more easily into his arms; the way she looks at him, eyes gone all certain and sure of him; the way she thinks when she speaks, values what he says and replies like it’s important.

Bellamy knocks on Clarke’s door, but when she doesn’t answer, he finds the spare key she’d given him on his keyring and fits it into the lock, figuring she’s cooking or showering. “Just, you know, in case,” she’d said, slipping it into his hand. 

“In case what, Clarke,” he’d asked, holding the metal, hot to the touch from her palm between his fingers as he looked at her. 

“In case I fall and can’t get up,” Clarke had snarked. “Just… I want you to have it.”

Bellamy rarely uses it, but just having it gives him feel an odd sense of permanence in Clarke’s life. He doesn’t doubt them, he doesn’t think Clarke does either, but still. It’s nice to have the physical reminder of it. 

 

Bellamy drops his bag by the door next to Clarke’s fashionable little tote and rolls his shoulders, feeling the stress beginning to leave him already. There’s something in the air of her apartment, maybe the sunshine streaming in from her windows, or the way that it always smells just a little like her lotion: a little bit buttery, a little bit nutty, that always makes Bellamy feel at home here. Or maybe that he just knows that this is Clarke’s space- that she sleeps here, works here, studies here, thinks here… Bellamy shakes his head trying to press back his grin because he can still be cool even if he’s so sweet on her he’s stupid with it. 

“Clarke?” he calls. Usually he gets an armful of her the second he steps through the door, messy blonde hair and slanted blue eyes, dragging Bellamy’s face down the few inches so she can kiss him. His girl is demanding as hell and Bellamy loves it, but today it’s oddly quiet in her apartment.

He peeks into the bedroom and can’t help but grin when he catches sight of her buried into her pillow, her bun coming undone and wispy. She’s under her comforter and looks sleep flushed. Bellamy grabs a glass of water from the kitchen because she’s always thirsty after she wakes up from a nap and then carefully slides onto the bed next to her. He doesn’t mean to wake her up, just wants to be close to her.

Clarke frowns as the bed dips under his weight as Bellamy stretches out next to her. He rubs a hand down her arm and presses a kiss to her temple, just saying hello because he can’t resist touching her. Clarke makes him ridiculous, he knows that, he’s accepted it.

“Bell’my?” Clarke mumbles, half awake but already turning her face toward him, angling for a kiss. Bellamy gives her one, slow and sweet and gentle, dying a little bit when Clarke sighs into it, eyes still closed, her lips quirking up under his own. 

“Hey, babe,” he murmurs back, stroking wisps of baby hair behind her ear. “You forget I was coming over?”

“Mm, no,” Clarke says as she fights an arm out from under the covers and reaches for him. Bellamy catches her hand in his own and squeezes it, brushes his thumb over her knuckles as he kisses her forehead, leaves his nose in her hair. “How was your day?” Her voice is muffled as she nuzzles her way into his neck. He feels her soft breath there and squeezes her hand again.

“Good. I’m done with my paper, so, that’s a relief. I made the kids do group work today so I could finish it, but.” 

“You got it done. I’m proud of you,” Clarke says and Bellamy has to press his lips against her head again. “I knew you would.”

“Are you my number one fan?” Bellamy can’t help tease her and Clarke snorts.

“I’ve got a big foam finger and everything.”

“That’s hot.” Bellamy shifts back so he can see her face. Her eyes are half closed, still sleepy, but contented, a small, private smile on her mouth. She looks up at him and her smile spreads; Bellamy knows he’s matching it without even trying. Clarke has that effect on him 

“How are you doing?” he asks her softly.

“I finished hanging everything,” Clarke says, rubbing a hand over her eyes to clear the sleep from them. “So that’s done. Finally.”

“I can’t wait to see,” Bellamy says. He loves Clarke’s work. She’s done so much in the past few months, taking an extra art class, experimenting with different mediums. She still loves sketching and charcoal, but she’s started working with paints and Bellamy loves, ridiculously, when she shows up to their dates or meets up with the group and she has small, multicolored freckles splattered across her face. It’s endearing in a way that boggles Bellamy’s mind, when he scratches them gently from Clarke’s skin and she’s always surprised that they’re still there.

“I can’t wait for you to. I think you’re going to like it,” Clarke says and leans in for another kiss, a little deeper, lips lingering longer, half pulling away before she changes her mind and kisses him again. Bellamy chuckles, tugs her closer, enjoying how her breath comes in puffs across his face.

Clarke groans after a moment and pulls away, her hand curling in Bellamy’s soft shirt. “I got my period today,” she mutters. “I fucking knew this would happen.” 

She catches her lip in her teeth as she looks up at Bellamy and he can’t help but pop it back out with his thumb, because anything involving Clarke’s mouth short-circuits his brain. He makes a sympathetic noise and presses his hand gently against her lower stomach.

“Cramps?” Bellamy murmurs and Clarke nods, sighs as Bellamy rubs her stomach, spreads his hand to offer any extra heat and comfort he can. Clarke wiggles closer to him and Bellamy gets his arm under her neck so she can pillow her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, babe. Want me to get you some advil?”

“No, this is perfect. Besides, I just got you in bed with me, I’m not letting you sneak away again.” Clarke says, pressing her lips to his collarbone and Bellamy chuckles.

“You miss me?” 

“Maybe,” Clarke admits and he feels her lips against his skin again, not even a kiss, not really, just mouthing at him. Bellamy hums, wishes he had words for how much he’s missed her, how just holding her like this, right now, makes his stomach flip happily. There’s no way he can think to phrase it that doesn’t sound ridiculous and a little pathetic so instead he just keeps up the slow rub of his hand on her stomach, skin bare and smooth under his hand. He runs his other hand up and down her spine lightly, happy to just hold her close and touch her after not seeing her for a while. 

It’s been nearly seven months that they’ve been together officially, seven months of getting to kiss Clarke and love her, of making her laugh and fighting, sometimes, but always making up with hot, sweaty sex where she hiccups gasps against his throat and clings to him like she can’t stand any space between them. Seven months and Bellamy still gets a thrill out of just being able to hold her like this, easy and sweet and fucking wonderful.

He had never thought to want this, all of what he has with Clarke, and it scares him sometimes, how much she means to him. It’s scary to look at Clarke and have the first thought that pops in his head be: _that’s her_. _She’s it._ Clarke is though. He knows if they ever broke up, he would survive, of course he would, but the thought of not having Clarke in his life is jagged and sharp and Bellamy thinks anyone else he might love after wouldn’t get the intensity of what he feels for Clarke, this girl who taught him what it was to want, to be selfish, to love. 

Bellamy glances down at Clarke and sees the contented smile on her face as she rubs her thumb along the collar of his shirt absently. Feeling his gaze, she props her chin up on his shoulder to look back at him; they’re faces are too close and they both go a little cross-eyed with it. Bellamy shakes his head and grips the back of her neck, works his thumb into the muscle there and watches as Clarke’s eyes go half-lidded. Clarke leans forward so she can kiss him and it’s still slow and easy, but it’s also fucking hot too, the way she presses herself into his side, the way she traces her tongue along his bottom lip, the way she makes a quiet, plaintive noise when he holds her close and slips his tongue into her mouth, shit. 

Kissing her, her taste, the feel of her, it clouds his mind and he gets lost in it, as has happened since that first night he kissed her in Octavia’s ratty kitchen, the salt of tortilla chips on her lips, her body soft and still unknown. He falls deeper into her now: Clarke makes everything else fade.

When she shivers against him and turns her head to catch her breath, Bellamy realizes he’s dug his fingers into the soft skin of her hip and her hair is filling his fist as he gives her the gentle pull that drives her crazy. He can see it in her eyes, how hot she is for him and she’s staring at his mouth, her own hands under his shirt and touching his stomach, thumb rubbing along his hipbone. 

He smirks at her, letting her see his teeth, and her eyes snap to his own; shit, she’s got that look. She makes a soft mau. “I really wanted you to fuck me. Like, really fuck me,” she says. “It’s all that’s got me through yesterday.”

“Still can, if you want,” Bellamy offers gruffly. “We’ve got towels and there’s always the shower.”

“Yeah, I know,” Clarke agrees but she looks tentative and a little defeated. Bellamy squeezes her neck, feeling a little bad.

She’s so sensitive when she’s on her period, her nipples sore and cunt tender. Usually Bellamy just goes down on her, mouth soft and tongue gentle on her clit, giving it to her slow and easy so that when Clarke comes, she’s blissed out and totally relaxed, hands clumsy when she reaches for him to return the favor. He loves all the ways he gets to make Clarke come, but when he gets to savor her, take his time to love on her pretty cunt like he learned to when they first got back together, Bellamy finds a deep contentment in just making it last as long as possible. He likes how pink she gets, how wet and messy it gets him, how her thighs shake when he’s teased her for half an hour. He likes the high noises he draws out of her, high and breathy and a little helpless, his girl beyond words… yeah he likes that a lot.

Bellamy has to clear his throat just at the thought of it and he rubs Clarke’s head, reassuring her. “We can do other things too,” he reminds her. “You know I can still get you off or…” the idea comes to him and it actually makes his breath stall out. “Or, you could fuck me?”

He says it as stoically as he can, isn’t sure why it’s so hard to ask for, when Clarke demands it happily, confident and sexy as hell. He loves when she asks for it, when she knows exactly what she needs him to do to get her off. Clarke’s knowledge of her own body and pleasure has always turned Bellamy on, driven him crazy with how hot it is to see Clarke spread out on the bed, helping him get her off. He likes when she makes him stay still so she can fuck down on his cock to get the right angle, how she moves his hands to where she needs them, how she lets him take over and be a little rough and adoring with her.

Saying it back to her, though, feels thrilling and kind of dirty.

Clarke raises her eyebrows and something greedy sparks in Clarke’s eyes and yeah, that’s fucking hot as hell. “Really?” Clarke asks.

“Yeah, Clarke. I want you to fuck me,” Bellamy husks, knows his face is heating a little but pushes through, “if you don’t think it’ll make your cramps worse.”

“No, no,” Clarke says quickly, almost cutting him off and Bellamy snorts at her eagerness. “No, I’d love that.” She kisses him again, teeth sharp and present and Bellamy feels her hunger, feels how into this she is and damn if that doesn’t get him hot fucking fast.

They’ve messed around with this, somewhat. Since Clarke had dropped word of her strap-on, Bellamy hasn’t been able to get the idea of it out of his head.

She’d shown him, put on her harness one night when they were both a little drunk and goofy. She’d come out of her room in just that and hair loose around her shoulders, and holy shit, Clarke with a cock turned out to be one of those “who knew” turn ons. Like all her sex toys, Clarke’s dildo is pretty fucking nice. It’s skin tone, just a couple shades darker than her own and made of a soft silicone that had felt surprisingly realistic when Bellamy had squeezed it, jacked his hand up and down it as he’d slipped his fingers inside her, crooking them and rocking them into her in time with the movement of his hand on the dildo. 

“You like wearing this?” He’d whispered against her stomach, kissing the swell of it as he fucked her on his fingers, twisting his wrist so he got her breathy gasps. “You look so fucking hot, babe. Does it make you feel hot?”

“Yeah,” Clarke had moaned, breath catching when Bellamy had set his thumb roughly against her clit and ground down, vibrating. “I feel really sexy.”

It figured: sexy, confident, fucking powerful Clarke was basically the definition of his sexuality these days.

“Would you ever want to fuck me with it?” He’d mumbled into her stomach and the fact that Clarke had come almost immediately, her legs giving out so that Bellamy had caught her and hauled her into his lap as she shuddered with it was pretty much all the answer he needed. But the desperate _fuck yes, Bellamy, yes_ , had been a nice affirmation as she’d yanked open his belt and pulled out his cock to sink down onto.

He’s not exactly sure what about the idea is so fucking hot, but the idea of Clarke fucking him the way he fucks her gets him so hot that he feels dizzy with it. So much so, that when he’s thought of it on his own, jerking off, it makes him come almost too quickly to enjoy the details of it: the way her hair might trail across his back if she leaned over him, the heat of her behind him, her hands on his hips… Bellamy wants that.

Clarke’s given him a few fingers when she blows him, the sensation of it had been bizarre at first, weird and tight and full in a way he hasn’t experienced sex before, but the first time he had come with Clarke’s finger pressing rhythmically into his prostate, her lips slurping up his cock... fuck, Bellamy can’t remember the last time an orgasm had shaken him so intensely. 

“Alright,” Bellamy agrees against Clarke’s mouth as she keeps kissing him, nibbling on his lower lip, worrying it a bit like he does to her. “Alright, babe,” he laughs because Clarke is so into this, wiggling around to fight her way out of the covers and straddle him. God, she’s wearing one of her crop tops and the short jean cutoffs that hug the curve of her ass, she looks so good, so fuckable, it’s killing him. He squeezes her hips and groans as she presses his shoulders down into her bed. “Clarke, we should eat something first.” He mumbles in between trying to kiss her back.

“Mm?” Clarke’s not listening, kissing at his neck wetly, flexing her fingers on his shoulders and if they don’t slow this down they’re going to spend the rest of the afternoon in bed. It’s tempting, to just stay here with her, get reacquainted with her skin, her taste, the way she melts into him, but he’s hungry and knows Clarke has weird eating habits when she’s stressed out. He’d much rather enjoy this when their stomach’s aren’t growling. Bellamy surges up under Clarke, and she yelps even as he wraps an arm around her lower back to keep her in place on his lap. 

“Babe,” Bellamy murmurs, cupping her face so he can give her quick little kisses, pecks on her nose and brief across her mouth that always get that happy, breathy huff from Clarke. “Food,” Bellamy says again. 

“Yeah…” Clarke agrees a little absent, her fingers tangling in his hair at the back of neck. She looks at him for a moment, face soft in a way that used to be so foreign to Bellamy, so strange on Clarke’s composed, pretty features. “Yeah, you’re right,” she sighs and leans in to steal one last kiss. “I was going to make you dinner, wasn’t I?”

“You may have mentioned that,” Bellamy says, squeezing her ass where he’s palming it. “But if you’re tired, we could also-”

“Don’t say ‘get take-out’,” Clarke warns him, leaning back as she wraps her arms around his neck so she can get a better look at him. “I bought so many fresh veggies, Bellamy. I’m making us something with a high nutritional value.”

“Oh, yeah? I’ll have you know-” Clarke cuts him off by kissing him, which was sort of the point to begin with and yeah, maybe Bellamy is half sabotaging this plan of getting up, but it’s Clarke. He’ll never get tired of Clarke kisses.

“My cooking is so much better than takeout,” Clarke reminds him, nipping at his lip. “And you get me, dressed like this, cooking for you. You really going to complain about that?”

“Mmm,” Bellamy pretends to think even as he squeezes at the bare skin of Clarke’s hips, hands hungry for her. “I guess when you put it like that, I could get on board.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Clarke snorts. “You love my cooking.”

“Yeah, I do,” Bellamy admits and pinches her side so that she giggles. 

“That’s what I thought,” Clarke says and gives Bellamy’s shoulder’s one last squeeze. She runs her hands down his arms, feeling his muscles and Bellamy flexes as he always does, can’t help it when Clarke hums happily. “Ok, ok, I need to stop letting you distract me.” She gets her legs under her and pushes herself up, standing on the mattress and bouncing a bit on her toes as she fixes her hair and Bellamy leans back on his hands to look up at her. 

She grins at him, bends forward to kiss him again and then hops off the bed. Bellamy takes a moment to actively fight against how much his cock objects to leaving Clarke’s bed, but then rolls off the mattress and follows her.

Clarke wasn’t kidding, she’s bought a fuckton of fresh veggies and greens, ground beef and some fancy kind of parmesan cheese that Bellamy picks at curiously until Clarke refocuses him with chopping onions, carrots and garlic, hand running down his back even as she gives him a hard time. Bellamy leans into her touch and rolls his eyes, can’t resist whapping her with a dishtowel when she turns away and, when she yelps, hauls her back and feels her up. He’s gentle with her tits but still gives them a squeeze. She’s so hot, damn, it kills him. He slides his hands down her waist to her hips, her legs, rubs his hands over her inner thighs so that Clarke shivers. 

“You’re distracting me again,” Clarke whispers. “You wanted to eat didn’t you?”

“I know, I know,” Bellamy says into her neck even as he works his hand into her shorts and panties to cup her cunt for a moment, just to feel her. She rocks a bit against his hand and he ghosts his thumb over her clit so that she whines. “I like touching you though.”

“You say it like I don’t know that,” Clarke breathes but grabs his wrist to hold him still so she can rock carefully against his fingers for a moment, taking just enough friction to feel good but not enough to feel like too much. It last only a few moments before Bellamy gives her a careful squeeze and pulls his hand free, just a little slick from her cunt. 

“Cooking?” he reminds her as Clarke huffs and grinds her ass back against his dick.

“Uh, yeah. Cooking.”

When Bellamy finished helping her prep the veggies he coaxes her back into his space and brackets her in against the counter, kissing her just to enjoy being close. “Hey,” Clarke whispers as he trails his lips down her neck, nibbling too light to leave a mark. “If you wanted to go grab a shower… save us time later?”

“Thought this through, huh?” Bellamy whispers to her and Clarke shivers. “Alright, you won’t get lonely out here without me?”

“No, you jerk,” Clarke laughs. “I think I’ll be ok knowing you’re in the apartment. Besides, I’ll get done cooking faster if you’re not here bothering me.”

“Oh that’s what we’re calling it now,” Bellamy huffs but gives Clarke a little tap on the ass and leaves her to finish cooking. Clarke’s shower has amazing shower pressure, so much better than his tiny one at home, and it’s hardly a hardship to use it, especially when she’s enough of a nerd to have bought the brand of body wash he likes for when he stays over. “So you still smell like you,” she’d told him with one of her embarrassed, half smiles that Bellamy struggled with resisting. 

He gives himself a perfunctory scrub down, happy to get clean, and lingers a little more than he usually would on his ass. Clarke’s going to touch him here, fuck him with her fingers and strap-on and Bellamy has to quickly think of his upcoming talk to avoid getting too hot again. There are only so many times in an hour he can blueball himself.

When he gets out of the shower, Clarke’s taking a picture of the baked ziti she’s made on his phone and grins at him when he lifts a curious eyebrow. “You haven’t updated your instagram-”

“You’re puppet instagram you mean,” Bellamy corrects her and Clarke shrugs as she swipes through filters.

“Forgive me for trying to keep you hip to it.”

“Hip to what?” Bellamy laughs and Clarke grins, still not looking up, messing around with highlights, apparently. Bellamy can’t believe he even knows that’s what she’s doing. He rests his chin on her shoulder to watch.

“Hip to everything,” Clarke says vaguely and then shows him the final edit for his approval. “And captioned: _Precursor to Pegging.”_

“No, Clarke,” Bellamy chokes and confiscates his phone. He does post the picture though, sans caption, and even tags Clarke in it, because he’s nice like that. He isn’t surprised when Octavia likes it immediately: his sister needs better hobbies rather than stalking him on social media.

They eat her baked ziti with homemade sauce and fresh veggies washed back with the six pack of beer Bellamy picked on the couch. He makes Clarke laugh so hard she cries with a story about his students, but mostly because he butchers the telling of it and has to start over three times. Clarke gets a chance to tell him more about her show and the other artists she found to join her, tries to describe one of the mobiles she likes so much then tries to draw it and in the end just gives up because Bellamy starts giving her a hard time about it.

“You’re an artist, Clarke,” he teases her, wrestling with her so that he can keep her from drawing on his skin with her pen. “Use your artsy words and abilities.”

“You would just look so good with a mustache,” Clarke says, completely ignoring him and trying to crawl into his lap to draw on his face. “Maybe some muttonchops. Hold still.”

“I like being clean shaven, thanks,” Bellamy says, finally grabbing her wrist and pressing it into her lap as she makes another attempt. She’s giggling and switches hands and Bellamy rolls his eyes. “Jesus, Clarke. If you draw on me, I’m giving you a unibrow, I swear I will.”

“A sexy one?” Clarke asks, giving up or maybe not cruel enough to follow through on her threats and instead flopping against his chest, tucking her head under his chin so he’ll wrap his arms around her. She knows him too well.

“On you? Absolutely,” he promises and shifts so her elbow isn’t digging into his ribs. Clarke hums, amused, maybe, but mostly sounding happy. Bellamy rubs her back, open palmed and fond as Clarke nuzzles closer. He feels her soft inhale, her nose pressed right into neck, knows she’s breathing him, enjoying him. She’d let that slip, this habit of hers, in one of those sleepy, half-dreaming admissions she sometimes gives him late at night, curled up together in bed and both of them drifting. “What are you thinking, Clarke?” 

“Oh,” she says softly. “Just how nice this is. Just, you know. Loving you.” She’s a total sap, Bellamy can’t stand it and has to mess up her hair a bit. 

“Yeah, it’s alright,” he says tugging on her hair so that it’s a little less perfect and Clarke snorts. He can feel her smile and then the press of her lips. It’s lazy; soft, sucking kisses with just a hint of her tongue on his neck, a graze of teeth and Bellamy closes his eyes, enjoys it for a moment. He scratches his short nails across her back, senseless patterns that raise goosebumps that he smoothes away with his hands. Clarke makes a soft sound and tugs at the collar of his shirt so she can kiss at the top of his chest, being sweet on him.

She looks up at him when he tangles a hand in her hair, not tugging on her or pushing her, just holding on and feeling her close after missing her. She smiles at him and lifts up for a proper kiss, not one of their deep and dirty ones, but the kind that makes Bellamy think he could kiss Clarke for the rest of his life and it wouldn’t feel like he had kissed her enough. 

“Can I give you a backrub?” Clarke asks, pulling back just enough to speak clearly, eyes giving her away as they go hot and dark. 

“You think I’m going to say no to that?” Bellamy laughs as he tugs on her hips. “Of course you can, babe. Of course you can.”

“Good,” Clarke says with a grin. She clambers off him and Bellamy misses her proximity, hefts himself off the couch and helps her dump the plates and their beer bottles in the kitchen, gives the pots a cursory rinse so they don’t have to worry so much about it later. Clarke disappears into her room for a moment while Bellamy washes before she’s back and wrapping her arms around him from behind, goes back to kissing the nape of his neck: hot, sweet promises. “Bellamy,” she complains as he takes his time. “Bellamy, come on.”

“Alright, alright, pretty girl,” Bellamy chuckles and towels his hands dry. “I’m all yours.”

Clarke’s pulled out her toy box and left it on her bedside table and Bellamy has to close his eyes because that’s always an instant turn on. She’s also laid out her harness and dildo, unassuming on the other side of the bed and that, _that_ , makes Bellamy catch her hips and pull her to him. 

Clarke laughs, probably knows why he’s gotten so handsy and lets him crowd her back against the bed, kiss her deep and dirty, tongue sliding against hers until she sucks on it and makes Bellamy groan. Clarke tugs at his shirt and Bellamy breaks the kiss so he can pull it off, lets her get her own off before he pulls her back against his chest as he unclasps her bra and slides it down her arms. 

He can’t get enough of the feeling of her tits pressed against him, drives him absolutely crazy with the way he can feel her nipples tighten against him. “Oh, babe,” he groans against her mouth and turns them so he can sit on the mattress and pull her to straddle him, knees bracketing his thighs. It gets her tits at lip-level and Bellamy presses his face into her, catches one and sucks gentle, easy, mindful of how sensitive she is when she’s on her period. It still makes Clarke’s breath catch and she slips her fingers into his hair, holds him close as he laves the flat of his tongue over her nipple.

When he sets his teeth carefully into one, Clarke gasps and clutches him closer. “Too much?” Bellamy mumbles into her skin and feels Clarke shake her head. Bellamy hums and sucks her tight nipple back into his mouth, lashes his tongue across it before he switches to the other one. Clarke sighs a bit above him and presses her hips forward into his stomach. Bellamy slides his hands down from her lower back into her shorts, feeling the lace of her underwear, the gorgeous curve of her ass. “Fuck, Clarke. God, you get me hot,” Bellamy growls against her.

Clarke laughs a little breathily and then shoves suddenly at his shoulders so that Bellamy goes down with a huff. Clarke gets herself out of her shorts so that she’s naked and fucking hot above him, tugs his pants and boxers down his legs so he’ll kick them off, and then leans over him, catching Bellamy’s wrists as he reaches up to touch her and pins them to the bed. 

“Uh-uh,” she says, hovering right over his face, lips just a breath away and so tempting that Bellamy has to try to kiss her, needs to, but she just moves out of his range as he lifts his head. 

“Clarke.” Bellamy realizes his voice sounds rough, sticks in his throat and Clarke smirks.

“Bellamy,” she parrots him, being a dick, and Bellamy groans and thumps his head back into the mattress. Clarke’s in a mood, a sexy, gorgeous, frustrating mood where she’s got it into her head to tease him. She turns her head so that the loose wisps of her hair trail across Bellamy’s mouth. 

“Killing me here, babe,” Bellamy whispers. “I just want to kiss you, huh?” 

“Just kiss me?” Clarke murmurs, lowering her face back down to him so slowly, eyes darting between his eyes and lips. “That’s all?”

“I want to do a lot of things to you,” Bellamy admits with a grin that Clarke can’t keep off her face either.

“Is that right? Like what?” Clarke asks, willing to play.

“Mm, come here and find out.” He actively works to keep still so Clarke will hurry up and come back down. Clarke does, inch by inch, testing him until she’s hovering right above his mouth, head tilting and her breath gusting over his lips as she touches just the tip of her tongue to his upper lip. Bellamy stays perfectly still, waiting, and Clarke finally, finally kisses him.

God, her lips are always so soft, the way she kisses him always makes his chest feel like it’s at once constricting and expanding. She kisses him slow, just deep, sure presses of her lips against his own and he thinks they both get lost in each other for a little while. All Bellamy knows is the familiar movement of Clarke’s lips against his own, the pressure of her hands on his wrists, the brush of her peaked nipples, still wet from his mouth, against his chest, and the warmth of her body hovering over his.

Clarke hums as she pulls away and her eyes are hot as she looks down at him, ducks in again to kiss him, playful and Bellamy snaps, uses her distraction to pull his hands free and catch the back of Clarke’s head. He holds her in place and really kisses her, tongue wet and teeth clicking, making it filthy. 

“Shit, I gotta touch you. Let me touch you, huh?” Bellamy grunts when Clarke makes a needy noise and he flips them, rolling her onto her back and runs his hand down from her face to find her nipples again, pass the flat of his palm across them lightly. He kisses her neck, by far her favorite place to be kissed, lets her feel his breath and it makes Clarke shiver and lift her hips as she clutches at him. He tweaks one of her nipples and Clarke whines; she’s a sight, flushed pale skin, eyes half closed, sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Bellamy cups her cheek and guides her face so he can kiss her as he runs his hand further down her body and finds her cunt again. He bites her chin as she whimpers.

“Yeah, I feel how wet you are,” Bellamy chuckles. “Got all hot teasing me, huh? You want me to give you a little massage?”

“I was gonna, um. I was going to give you a back rub and… and...,” Clarke protests but her head’s tipped back and Bellamy just wants to get her off. 

“You will,” he promises as he slides his fingers against her, teasing her labia, touching at her, feeling how much she wants him. “And then you’re going to fuck me, right?”

“Shit, yeah,” Clarke whimpers and bucks up again. 

“Yeah,” Bellamy breathes against her face as he rubs up to circle her clit, slick and easy with her arousal coating his fingers and Clarke whines again, turns her face and searches for a kiss. Bellamy gives her one, soft and pliant even as he spreads his fingers and rubs over her outer lips, enough pressure to make her breath stutter and then repeats the move on her inner labia. “Aw, babe, yeah,” Bellamy encourages her as Clarke rocks her hips up into him again and he returns to a steady, slow rub up and down her cunt, keeping her clit constantly in contact with his hand as he moves fingers to palm again and again and again. 

“Bellamy,” Clarke whimpers. “Fuck, please.” She sounds so sweet, so pretty, Bellamy has to kiss her. His hand slips with how wet she’s gotten and Bellamy catches her lip in his teeth, fists his free hand in her hair and pulls. Clarke shivers all over.

“You feeling good, babe? How does your cunt feel?”

“So good, Bellamy. You’re making me feel so good,” Clarke gasps. 

“Yeah, Clarke,” Bellamy says. “Fuck, your cunt is so wet, babe. You know how hot that is?” He spreads her open and sets his fingertips right against her clit, circles it, bears down more with each turn so that Clarke’s thighs begin to shake against his legs and Bellamy brushes his nose against hers because she looks so good, eyes closed and mouth bitten pink as her breath comes in sharp short gasps. He can’t help but be sweet on her. 

Clarke opens her eyes and looks up at him, eyes hazy and overwhelmed and brow creasing. “God, Bellamy. Bellamy- Bell’my-” She can’t get out whatever it is she wants to say and Bellamy is torn between working her harder under his fingers and letting her breathe for a moment so he can draw this out for her. He slows his fingers, testing, and Clarke whines, desperate. “No, no, please,” she begs against his mouth, nuzzling at his face. “I want to come, I want to come.”

“God, Clarke, of course. I’m sorry, babe. I’m sorry, you’re okay,” Bellamy soothes her and kisses her cheek, her nose, her forehead as she sighs under his increased grind. He knows with how sensitive she is right now, more pressure’s going to be too much, but he’s not sure she can get there with what he can give her now with just his fingers and he carefully untangles himself from her so he can get between her legs. 

He settles his mouth on her clit and groans at how she tastes, fuck, always so good, so hot under his tongue. Clarke arches at the vibration and Bellamy hums again, softly, as he suckles at her clit, giving her something different and gentler to come to. Clarke gives him a huge sigh as he drags his tongue soft and sloppy over her clit again and again, eases just the tip of his finger inside her until he bumps against the bottom of her diva cup and strokes his thumb gently at where he’s stretching her open. 

“Shit, fuck, shit,” Clarke whispers above him and Bellamy fights back his laughter, his girl is so fucking dirty-mouthed when she’s close to coming. “Bellamy, oh fuck, just- just-” Bellamy sucks hard and sudden at her, shocking a yelp from her that immediately turns into soft, pleading whimpers as he keeps it up and shakes his head, making his tongue vibrate roughly over her. He feels her legs spasm, feels her cunt clench sharply around his finger and he softens his mouth again. He brings Clarke back down gently as he presses kisses against her clit, gives her long laps of his tongue until Clarke’s trembling turns to oversensitive twitching and Bellamy carefully draws back and slides up over her body.

Clarke’s eyes are still closed and she has a few strands of hair stuck to her forehead. Bellamy brushes them back and steals kisses from her until she kisses him back and laughs softly against his mouth. “Yeah?” Bellamy asks, nosing at her face affectionately.

“Yeah. Very much yeah.” Clarke murmurs. She scratches her fingers against his scalp and exhales slowly, happy. “I’m all tingly.” Clarke goes goofy-happy after sex, cute in a way that she doesn’t usually get and Bellamy loves it, how giggly and girlish Clarke allows herself to be with him.

“Good,” Bellamy says, smug, and gives her another peck. “You just take all the time you need to recover.” Clarke slaps lightly at his shoulder. 

“You jerk. I didn’t say it was that amazing.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, do I need to get you off again?” He makes like he’s going to get back between her legs and Clarke clutches at him, knowing he’s joking but buying it anyway, laughing. 

“No, no, alright, it was amazing.” She pulls him back down to kiss her and Bellamy keeps it slow and easy, content with Clarke’s hands petting over his back, tracing freckle clusters from memory. “How about that back rub?” Clarke asks, as she breaks away from his mouth and grins up at him. She trails her fingers down his back to settle on his ass, squeezes the muscles and then teases a finger just between his cheeks. “Get you relaxed?”

Shit, Bellamy feels his dick twitch at the thought of what they’re planning and Clarke must too because her smile goes mischievous. “That a yes?”

“An enthusiastic one,” Bellamy agrees and rolls off her to let her sit up. 

“Lie on your stomach,” Clarke tells him, bossy because Bellamy _knew_ that, but he humors her and crosses his arms under one of her fluffy pillows and bunches it up to rest his cheek on. It smells like Clarke and he turns his face into it for a moment as Clarke shifts behind him and straddles his hips, the heat of her cunt right above his ass. 

“Your back is so sexy.” He feels her fingers run lightly down the length of his back and then press firm and push back up, thumbs digging into the muscles around his spine. Bellamy buries his groan into her pillow and hears Clarke’s soft laughter. 

He’s still worked up from eating Clarke out, and the press of her hands is good and familiar. Usually when Clarke gives him a backrub, the stress leaves him quickly and he relaxes under her touch in an almost pavlovian way, but today he feels the tension linger, even as she starts to work knots out from his shoulders. 

He vaguely hears the click of a bottle cap and then he flinches in surprise as something cool dribbles across his back.

“Just some lotion,” Clarke murmurs and she works it into his skin, makes the slide and press of her hands easier and Bellamy sighs. “You doing ok, Jumpy?” 

“Uh-huh,” Bellamy manages. “Just… “ he trails off not really knowing how to express how much he wants this even as it makes him anxious. As hot as the idea makes him, it still fucks with his head a little, the newness of it, the ingrained taboo of wanting this with his girl, it all that makes Bellamy’s heart rate tick up. 

“I want to like this,” he says, finally. It doesn’t come out right, but Clarke seems to get it.

“We’ll go slow,” she assures him, “start with what we’ve done before and work our way from there. I’m going to make you feel so good, Bellamy. I’m going to fuck you just like you fuck me.”

“Fuck,” Bellamy groans. “Yeah, I want that, Clarke.”

“Yeah, me too,” Clarke says softly and leans over to kiss the corner of his mouth. It helps, being reminded that she wants this too, that they’re doing this together and it’s not just focused on him. That’s still hard, sometimes, to feel like he can ask for something he wants, something that feels selfish. It was never in his vocabulary before, never ingrained that he could prioritize himself, not when Octavia was so young, not when he was in the military and had to do as he was told and survive long enough to get out. It’s been new and a little strange to learn that Clarke wants what he wants, wants him to feel good and supports him just for the sake of making him happy. Because his happiness makes her happy. There’s never been anyone like that in his life before, never.

Clarke keeps up her gentle massage, hands strong and certain on his back. She’s so good at this, finding the knots in his shoulders and working them out with her thumbs, giving him more pressure as he needs it. She works her way gradually lower and Bellamy feels himself settling deeper into her dark, soft sheets. He hasn’t had a moment like this in a while, when he gets to just turn off his brain and feel. Goddamn, but he needs it. 

Clarke’s fingers sweep right over the top of his ass and Bellamy feels her shifting her weight, knee walking back and then resettling between his legs even as her fingers don’t leave him. Her teasing touch turns purposeful and she sets her fingers into his glutes and squeezes. Bellamy grunts and rocks down against the mattress, without intention, just feeling how nice the sheets feel against his cock. Clarke laughs a little above him and keeps working his ass, making him twitch as she finds tender spots and digs her fingers in. 

“Feels really good,” Bellamy tells her, stretching her under hands.

“I’m glad,” Clarke says softly as she palms his ass and presses outward, spreading him open. Bellamy feels his face heat, a response he hasn’t gotten past yet, and he glances over his shoulder, sees the way Clarke looks at him, hot and intent and cheeks pinked up. She looks up and grins at him as she trails one finger lightly over the furl of muscle. Bellamy twitches, the soft stroke of her finger thrilling and he feels his hole clench involuntarily.

“God, that’s hot,” Clarke says and as Bellamy continues to peek at her over his shoulder she licks her thumb, wet and generous, and then presses the pad of it against him. She circles it and Bellamy has to bury his face in the pillow, because it feels so good, the tight, sweet feeling of Clarke touching him there. She presses just a little more and his muscle gives, the tip of her thumb sinks into him. 

“Shit,” Bellamy whispers and Clarke just rubs carefully, just feeling the inner rim of his hole. “Babe, please.”

“Oh, you want some more?” Clarke asks and Bellamy can hear the grin in her voice, and underneath that, how much this is turning her on. “Want me to eat you out?”

Bellamy’s stomach flips, hot and dirty at Clarke’s words, her voice, her fingers touching him. It’s all so much, so good, and fuck, yes, Bellamy wants her mouth on him. “Eat me out, Clarke,” Bellamy groans. “God, your mouth, babe. I want to feel your tongue.”

“Shit, yeah,” Clarke agrees and he feels her readjust, then the tickle of her hair on his inner thighs, brushing in between of her fingers still holding his asscheeks open. Clarke’s thumb disappears and there’s a moment of stillness before the hot shock of her tongue swiping across his hole. 

“Oh fuck,” he groans and Clarke makes a hot, hungry sound and then her tongue is back, lapping at him with long, wide licks. It’s so wet, so fucking filthy, as she drags her tongue from his perineum all the way across his hole. She gives him sudden, fast flicks of her tongue that catch at the rim of his ass, pull a bit but are immediately soothed with how wet Clarke’s mouth is so that everything it just sweet, slick sensation.

She switches it up, pulses her tongue flat and strong against his hole and then points her tongue and draws a circle around the muscle, spirals it inward so that it’s focused right where it counts, right where it makes Bellamy actually whine and rock his hips back because, holy shit, Clarke’s a champ at sucking cock, but this, this… this is fucking insane.

“Babe, holy fucking shit. Shit, Clarke.” He knows he doesn’t have words, knows he’s just babbling, but fuck her tongue. Fuck, her mouth, as she suddenly covers his hole with her lips and _sucks_ , tongue flicking against the rim of his hole again, catching, pushing, fuck. Clarke’s tongue slides inside him and Bellamy shudders. It’s so wet, so hot, wriggling and kinda dirty and wrong but so good. Clarke moans, right over him, right into him and Bellamy digs his fingers into the pillow, needs something to hold onto because it’s that good. It’s not the sweet glide of her mouth on his cock, it’s a deep, tight, pushing pleasure and as Bellamy twitches, he realizes his cock is even stiffer than it had been, god, he’s aching for it.

“Clarke, please,” he manages, voice gone and Clarke lets up on him just for a moment to raise her head and Bellamy misses her mouth instantly.

 

“What do you want, Bellamy? Tell me.” Clarke’s thumb is back to rubbing over his rim and Bellamy can’t even think straight with it.

“Fingers,” he groans. “Please, Clarke. Your fingers.”

“Yes,” Clarke moans. “Hold on, ok? I’m just-” her thumb keeps rubbing at him, a little frantic, a little rough in a way that makes the friction more intense as she kneels up behind him and Bellamy feels her groping for the coconut oil she keeps on the bedside table, what they’ve started using for lube when they’re not playing with her vibrators. “Just gonna get them wet for you,” she finishes.

And that’s so hot that Bellamy feels light headed with it. There’s the soft metallic scrape of the jar opening and then the warm dribble of oil over her thumb, still rubbing, and easing the friction as it melts. “Ok,” Clarke whispers. “You want one?”

“Yeah, babe,” Bellamy says, and digs his fingers into the pillow as Clarke’s thumb gives him one last sweep and then there’s the gentle but insistent pressure of one of Clarke’s fingers, catching the rim and pushing forward. Bellamy exhales, works to relax, and his muscles give- Clarke’s finger sinks inside him, slick and long and fucking wonderful. “ _Fuck_ ,” Bellamy swears as his ass flutters around her finger and Clarke swears right along with him, her finger beginning to circle, stretching him. 

It feels… not good, but _good_ , an ache and a fullness that Bellamy works to relax around as Clarke rocks her finger carefully into him, keeping up the slow rotation. “This ok?” she asks him. “More lube?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy manages after he clears his throat. “A little more. Maybe.”

“Definitely,” Clarke encourages him and then she’s digging more out, rubbing it against the rim of his hole as she continues to rock her finger into him. “You’re so warm, Bellamy,” Clarke whispers and he feels her breath gust over him. “I love it.” And then her tongue is back, tracing around her finger and teasing at slipping inside him as well. Bellamy jerks against the bed, groans again at how good it feels as Clarke drags the pad of her finger down purposefully and it rubs against his prostate.

“ _Fuck_ , babe. That, do that again.”

Clarke gives his ass a slap. “Ask nicely, Bellamy. You’re so demanding.” Clarke’s pitched her voice low, a caricature of how he teases her when she gets greedy and Bellamy laughs a little weakly into the pillow, grunts when Clarke does find his prostate again and circles her finger against it, rubs it sweet and intense and Bellamy bites the pillow to keep from begging her for more.

“Want another finger?” Clarke asks, rocking her finger harder into him and Bellamy nods.

“Yeah, another, please,” he husks. “God,” he groans as she pulls her finger out and he gets the brief, teasing circle of two fingers over the rim of his hole before she pushing in again, slick and stretching him hot and full and with a sweetness right on the line of being too much, making Bellamy’s breath stutter. “Fuck, Clarke. Fuck, babe.”

“Ok?”

“A lot,” he manages. “Shit, it’s a lot.” Clarke’s fingers slow and she just strokes lightly at him, fingers gentle and soothing. She leans forward and kisses Bellamy’s back, slow, hot, open-mouthed kisses that raise goosebumps. 

“You look really good,” Clarke says, voice gravely, kind of wrecked. “So hot, taking my fingers. You want to turn over? I want to suck on your cock.”

How’s he supposed to say no to that? Bellamy must say something that’s somewhat intelligible and Clarke laughs, eases her fingers from him so Bellamy can roll over. “Come up here a minute,” Bellamy asks, tugging her on her wrist. “Come let me kiss you, huh?”

Clarke leans up over him and Bellamy pushes himself up on his elbows so he can find her mouth and kiss her, hungry and wanting her. Clarke swipes her tongue across his lips and Bellamy nips at her, feeling her shiver, her smile. “You enjoying yourself?” Bellamy asks, squeezing at her arm, just making sure.

“So much,” Clarke murmurs. “Are you?”

“Hell yes,” he laughs and gets another kiss from Clarke, a quick, fierce one that leaves him dizzy with Clarke’s smell in his nose and a smear of coconut oil across his neck. Clarke kisses down his chest, her tongue a hot dart of sensation and then she’s sprawled on her stomach, sweeping her hair back around to one side and holy fuck, she’s licking at the head of his cock.

She sighs as she laps up a blurt of precum up, eyes on his face and tongue hot and lazy, sloppy in a way that always makes Bellamy crazy. His girl loves sucking him off, it’s insane, how eager and wet and needy it makes her. Clarke taps down his cock with oil-slick fingers, nuzzles her face against the base of his dick and then drags her tongue back up, and Bellamy fists a hand in her hair. “Such a fucking tease,” he growls. “Christ, Clarke, come on, suck on it, huh?”

Clarke doesn’t even bother snarking back, just whines and swallows him. Jesus, her mouth is always so sweet, the feeling of her tongue and soft inside of her cheeks, the bump of his cock against her soft palate and then, then, how her throat opens and he just slides down.

“ _Fuuuck_ ,” Bellam groans and then swears again as Clarke pushes her fingers into him again. Oh fuck, it’s so much, her mouth working up and down his dick, her fingers pressing against his prostate, rubbing, then turning and spreading inside him. The burn-stretch of it is just enough to keep him in his head, keep his coming at bay while Clarke pulls out all her tricks. It’s the eye contact, Bellamy thinks hazily as he says something to her, what he’s not sure, Clarke makes him run his mouth in a way he’s never done before, he can’t help it, she’s too much- but her eyes on his, watching how much she affects him, how eager she is to see how she makes him feel good… there’s something so hot about it. Bellamy strokes his shaking fingers through her hair as she swallows around him fucks her fingers into him hard.

“Holy shit, Clarke,” Bellamy groans, his legs spasming. “Holy shit, babe.”

She pulls off him with a little gasp, that Bellamy can’t think too hard about because _fuck_ , and grins at him still rocking her fingers into him, the slide easy now, the way all slicked with oil. “Can I give you another one?”

“Yes,” Bellamy breathes, clenching down on the ones she’s already got inside him at the thought. She’s only ever fucked him with two before. Clarke kisses at his hipbones and nibbles at the dark hair on his stomach as she scoops a little more oil from the jar and rubs it around his hole and on her ring finger. She draws her fingers back slow and Bellamy’s stomach jumps as she lingers right at the stretch of his muscles around the rim. There’s a shift and then she pushes back in with three, the oil making them go easy even as Bellamy feels his hole stretch wide around her. 

“Oh my god, Bellamy,” Clarke whispers and fists his cock in her other hand, giving him a slow, tight squeeze as she buries her fingers to the last knuckle. “You’re so tight. Wow,” she leans her head against his leg as she turns her fingers in careful circles, looks up at him, face so happy and bright. Bellamy manages to chuckle, feeling a little overwhelmed with how intense the ache is, how full he feels and how loved. “This still good?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy says, voice shaking a bit and Clarke kisses his thigh. “We’re good, babe.”

“Deep breaths,” Clarke says, voice gentle as she rubs a little more coconut oil against his hole. She guides his cock back to her mouth, clearly too lazy to lift herself up and gives the head of it slow, hot sucks that make the stretch almost too good. Bellamy groans and lifts his hips, wanting more of everything. Clarke rocks her fingers into him, rubbing across his prostate, fucking deep into him, sucking hard on the tip of his cock. 

“Damn, Bellamy,” Clarke laughs a little, letting his cock pop from her mouth. “You’re cock is dripping.” When he opens his eyes to look at her, she’s got a spot of precum on her lips and it nearly makes Bellamy come, especailly when she sucks him back down fast and hard and curls her fingers just right into. 

“Clarke, shit, too much. I’m gonna come if you- fuck,” Bellamy rasps and Clarke’s hand closes tight around the base of his cock, cutting him off even as she keeps up the grind of her fingers inside him. 

“Not yet.” God, her voice is absolutely wrecked. “You’re going to come while I’m fucking you.” 

“Jesus, babe. Whatever you want, pretty girl,” Bellamy groans. “Whatever you want.”

Clarke grins at him, smile a little wild as she pushes herself and oh fuck, keeps her fingers rubbing into him as she leans across the bed for her harness and dildo, the angle changing and making Bellamy shudder. “Just need my fingers for a minute, ok?” Clarke slides them free and Bellamy feels strangely empty and vulnerable. He props himself up as Clarke slides the red leather of her harness up her gorgeous thighs, does the buckles with hurried fingers. God, she’s so sexy, he’s gotta touch her. 

Bellamy brushes his hand down her side, traces the seam of skin and leather around her hips and Clarke looks up, fingers slowing, and she smiles at him, so sweet. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, babe,” Bellamy says and runs his fingers lower, slides them through the thatch of her pubic hair to touch her cunt. Oh. She’s so wet. It’s not just from him making her come before, but from this, from fingering him and sucking his cock, from getting excited about fucking him. He strokes his fingers over her, and she’s hot to the touch, sensitive as she shivers. 

“Feel’s nice,” Clarke whispers and is careful as she pets a palm down the back of Bellamy’s neck, trying to keep from touching him with her slick fingers. Bellamy kisses her breastbone, high and right between her tits. “Want to help me out here?”

She’s holding the dildo as she unsnaps the o-ring in the harness, half offering it to him. Bellamy takes it and slides it through the o-ring and then refastens the snaps. He dunks his fingers into the jar of oil and slicks up the shaft of it, rubbing it into the silicone, making it shiny. “That’s just…” Clarke trails off and when Bellamy looks up at her, she’s staring at his hands. Bellamy slows his hand, draws it back up the silicone cock slowly, rubs his thumb over the head of it and Clarke’s breath catches. “That’s so hot, Bellamy.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles. He wraps his other arm around Clarke’s back and hauls her closer as he dips his head and kisses at the tip of it, looking up at her from under the fall of his hair.

“Holy shit,” Clarke breathes. “You want to.. You wanna suck on it a bit?”

He hadn’t thought of it, other than making Clarke blush, but when she says it like that, when she looks at him like that… his mouth waters and he flicks his tongue out to circle the tip like Clarke does to his cock. It tastes a little like coconut, a little greasy, but Clarke’s fingers tightening in his hair, the way she pushes her hips forward makes Bellamy’s stomach flip and he groans, shuffles around so he can push Clarke down onto the bed and loom over her.

“You want me to suck your cock, Clarke? Is that it, babe?”

“Fuck, Bellamy,” Clarke whines and pushes herself back up on her elbows, trying to see better as he keeps her hips down on the mattress and jacks his fist up her dildo again. He keeps his eyes on hers as he lowers his head and laps at the head of it, drawing it between his lips, mouthing at the tip. “Yeah, suck it, Bellamy,” Clarke says and isn’t that fucking hot? “God, your mouth,” she whines, in a pretty good imitation of him, actually. 

Bellamy represses his laugh and tries to figure out how to suck the dildo into his mouth without his gag reflex kicking in. It’s not so bad, really, and he sucks at the head of it watching Clarke watch him. She’s biting her lip, sneaking a hand up to graze a little at her nipples and Bellamy can play too. He settles his thumb over her clit and presses down, rubs as he sucks at the head of the dildo and then licks up and down the shaft. _Oh_ , Clarke moans above him and Bellamy circles his thumb, pulls the dildo’s head into his mouth and works it to the back of his tongue before he gags and has to let up. It’s not the same as eating Clarke out, having her hot, slick cunt under his mouth, but he likes how this makes her squirm, how her fingers tighten in his hair like she’s thinking about making him stay there and take it. He looks up at her and she looks so good, hair wrecked, pupils blown wide and lips parted as he rubs sweet sounds from her. 

Bellamy pulls off the dildo and swipes his thumb across her bottom lip, grins as she licks at the shine of her own arousal and smirks up at him. “What are you doin’, Clarke?” He can’t help but tease her, slapping at her thigh and then rubbing away the sting. “Aren’t you going to fuck me?”

Clarke pushes herself up all the way and grabs the back his neck, pulls him close so she can kiss him. “Damn right I am. How do you want it?” she murmurs against his lips. “Bellamy, tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

“From behind.” Bellamy has to close his eyes as he says it, that last little bit of ingrained shame rearing it’s head, but then Clarke is stroking her fingers across his face and pressing a soft kiss to his mouth, lips so gentle and slow. When he looks at her, she’s smiling at him like she does when she tells him she loves him, eyes easy. Bellamy butts his nose into her cheek and she squeezes his shoulder, encouraging and pleased and excited. Her other hand trails down his stomach and strokes his cock, and suddenly that need that had faded to the back of his mind while he teased Clarke comes roaring back with the wet pass of her palm over the head of his cock.

“Go on,” she urges. “Turn around so I can give it to you.”

Bellamy shuffles around and braces himself on his hands and knees, feeling a fine tremble in his thighs, in his fingers. Clarke’s petting lightly at his hip, and then her fingers are back at his hole, adding more coconut oil, pushing inside him and rubbing down against his prostate so that Bellamy’s dick jerks _again_ , and then she’s pulling free and there’s just the soft pressure of her dildo resting against his rim. 

“Ok,” Clarke says, sure and confident in him. “Ready, Bellamy?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy whispers because he thinks his voice would probably stick in his throat. He takes a steadying breath and as he releases it, Clarke pushes gently forward. At first it’s just pressure, oh fuck, a lot of pressure, a tight, overwhelming fullness, so much more than her fingers, that makes the last air in Bellamy’s lungs whoosh from him and he panics slightly, fists the sheets. “Clarke-”

Clarke stills immediately, rubs her hands over his lower back, down his thighs. “Hey, hey, hey, breathe,” she murmurs. “Talk to me. Are you ok?”

“I… I don’t know,” Bellamy admits. He can’t think past the stretch and the ache of being filled, is trembling in a way sex has never made him before. “Is it- are you-”

Clarke keeps her hips still but leans forward and wraps her arms around his chest, kisses at his spine slowly. “You want me to pull out? I can pull out, Bellamy, what do you need?”

“Uh,” Bellamy manages. The first shock of it is fading and he can breathe a little easier. He already feels impossibly full and stretched, doesn’t know how much more he can take and Clarke can’t be much more than an inch or two in. But then her hands smooth carefully down his chest, over his stomach, oh like he touches her, and stroke his cock. He’s going a little soft from the newness of this, but with the pull of her fist something flips, something about the stretch becomes hot, insanely hot and Bellamy groans and drops his head. “Fuck, no, keep going. Just- just slow.”

“Yeah,” Clarke breathes and brushes her lips along his shoulders, nibbles his ear. “Slow.” She doesn’t push any further, just rocks back a bit and then in again, getting him used to that feeling, that stretch. He feels her fingers rubbing more oil at his rim and then she pushes again and sinks deeper and _shit_. The stretch sings sweetly up his spine, curls in his stomach and Bellamy rocks back against her and then _fuck_ , the dildo bumps against his prostate. Bellamy makes some noise, half muffled swear, half whine and drops to his elbows, can’t help it, it’s so good. 

“Oh _yeah_ , Bellamy,” Clarke moans. “God, you look so hot. You’re doing great, just a little more, ok? A little more and you’ll take it all.”

Bellamy drops his forehead into the pillows for the last slide, and then he can feel the leather of Clarke’s harness against his ass, feel her thighs against the back of his own and her hands back on his cock, giving him sure, hard strokes, hand over hand, again and again, getting him back up. 

“Babe,” Bellamy pants. “That feels so good. Goddamn, Clarke, come on. Come on, give it to me, babe.”

“Yeah, you ready for me to really fuck you?” Clarke sinks her teeth into his shoulder blade, makes him groan. 

“Yes. Please fuck me, Clarke,” Bellamy groans. 

“Mmm,” Clarke hums and then the heat of her body leaves him and she’s bracing a hand on his hip as she reaches for her toy box again and Bellamy can’t think of what she’s reaching for, all he can think is that he needs to get fucked, but then her hand is back on his dick but oh shit, oh fuck, she’s stroking him with the soft, silicone sleeve she’d bought for him. It slides up and down his cock, the soft ridges driving him crazy. “How’s that?” she laughs as Bellamy swears at her. 

“Yeah,” is all he can say, which probably doesn’t make sense because Clarke is huffing in laughter behind him but it doesn’t matter because she’s pulling back and then rocking forward, slow, in time with the steady stroke of her hand on him, and then a little faster, a little harder.

“Clarke,” Bellamy whines, “More. More, please, babe.”

“Oh, _yes_ , Bellamy. I’ve got you, don’t worry.” And then she’s snapping her hips into him harder, her dildo dragging across his prostate, filling him up, making him groan as she does it again, and again and again, and it’s so much, it’s so intense. “You like that?” She demands when he groans, and she fucks him harder, bottoms out and circles her hips against him in a way that nearly makes Bellamy’s legs give out. “You like getting fucked, Bellamy?”

Bellamy tries to answer, tries to tell her how good she is to him, but then she’s fucking him again, hardly pulling out, just short, deep thrusts that make any words he might have had turn to desperate grunts. God, he must sound like her, he thinks, when he fucks her so good on his cock that the only thing she can give him are happy, hurt sounds. Clarke squeezes the sleeve tighter around his cock and Bellamy’s body convulses, thrashing at how good and immediate everything is. “That’s right,” Clarke says, low and hot. “Just let me fuck you.”

Fuck, it’s all he _can_ do. He rocks back against Clarke and groans as it makes the head of his cock feel like it’s getting sucked into the the sleeve. Clarke’s other hand falls on his hip and she digs her fingers in, controlling his movements, keeping him where she wants him so she can fuck him the way she wants to. It’s so good, god, everything he thought he wanted and more, the way he can hear her breath, a little loud, harsh as she fucks her dildo into him, how if he turns his head slightly, he can see see Clarke’s tits bounce with each thrust, see how Clarke’s watching herself fuck him, brows furrowed with concentrated intent, cheeks flushed with how much she likes it.

Clarke looks up and catches him watching her, grins at him, at once delighted and devious. Her hand on his cock speeds up, and Bellamy groans as the head of his dick pops free and then is immediately enveloped again in the slick, warm silicone grip as Clarke’s hips bump against his ass, her dildo grinds into his prostate. It’s so good, fuck, fuck, and with a sudden, helpless noise, Bellamy realizes he’s going to come. He scrabbles at the sheets, trying to ground himself, trying to make this last, but it’s too much and when Clarke leans forward to bite at his shoulder blades and he feels the brush of her hair, falling loose from her bun, he’s done. His whole body locks up as he comes, his orgasm rushing through him, making him groan embarrassingly loud even as he buries his face in the pillow. 

For a moment, everything is darkness and shivery-good twitches in his body, and then Clarke’s fingers are stroking down his back, rubbing gently at the dip right above his ass and he realizes she’s talking to him, low and soft. 

“Yeah,” she’s saying. “Yeah, Bellamy. That was so hot. Just breathe, you’re good.”

He turns his face a little so he doesn’t feel like he’s going to smother himself and Clarke’s fingers slide up his back to touch his temples. She strokes the hair back off his forehead and leans forward to kiss his cheek. “How you doing, Slugger?”

“I’m good,” Bellamy says, hoarse. “Holy shit, I’m really good, babe.” Clarke laughs and nuzzles closer, kisses the side of his mouth until Bellamy lifts his head to kiss her sloppily over his shoulder. She presses closer and Bellamy groans, over sensitive and a little sore as her dildo presses deeper.

“Sorry,” Clarke says quickly. “Hold on, I’ll pull out, ok?” The slow slide of the dildo leaving him makes Bellamy wince as the head of it stretches his rim again, but then Clarke flopping down next to him and letting him burrow his head into her thigh as she leans back against the headboard and buries her fingers in his hair to rub his head. He’s vaguely aware of the soft chink of her undoing the clasps on her harness, the wiggle of her body as she gets out of it and then she’s making a soft, encouraging sound, getting him to lift his head and rest it in her lap, pulls his arm across her legs and Bellamy slips his hand under her thigh.

Bellamy feels a gentle movement and when he opens his eyes, Clarke’s slipped a hand between her legs and he can just see her fingers flexing. He catches the smell of her cunt, briny and sharp and god, he wants to help but he feels so sluggish. “It’s ok,” Clarke soothes him, feeling his hand tighten on her thigh. “I just, uhm, just really liked fucking you.”

“Pass me your box,” Bellamy husks and Clarke barely hesitates before she’s pulling her wet fingers away from her cunt and drags her box into her lap next to Bellamy’s head. He reaches into it, finds by touch her soft lilac vibrator and pulls it out. Clarke’s breath hitches as she watches him turn it on, keeping it nice and low for her, and she shoves the box off her legs and opens them wide enough for Bellamy to reach between them and press the vibrator against her. 

“Oh,” Clarke whispers, head dropping back against the headboard as Bellamy rubs the vibrator up and down her cunt, turning and circling his wrist to give her more, tempted to knock up the vibrator to hear her yelp, but she looks so happy, getting worked up gently that Bellamy can’t bring himself to. It doesn’t take long, Clarke’s fingers tighten in his hair and her other hand reaches up to play with her nipples, tugging at them, pinching the tight, rosy peaks of them in a way that makes Bellamy’s mouth water and he kisses her at stomach. “Oh, oh, Bellamy yes,” Clarke gasps as Bellamy presses the vibrator right against her clit and watches her come, an orgasm that shivers through her body and leaves her trembling.

Clarke scoots down from the headboard when she catches her breath and somehow manages to snuggle into his chest even as she wraps her arms and legs around him. Bellamy puts his nose in her hair and doesn’t trust himself to be the first one to speak.

“Mm, what time is it?” Clarke asks at last, kissing the dimple of Bellamy’s chin. 

“Uh,” Bellamy squints at her bedside clock. “Just past nine.”

“Still early,” Clarke yawns. “You want to do something? We could go out and get a drink to celebrate your paper, or…”

Bellamy nuzzles his nose into her ear and Clarke giggles. “Babe, after the way you fucked me, I have no interest in sitting on a bar stool.” Clarke snorts. “You want to go out though?”

“Not at all,” Clarke says, “Just thought I would offer so that when I suggest, like I’m about to, that we watch netflix until we pass out, you won’t think I’m lame.”

“I already know you’re lame,” Bellamy teases her and kisses her protests away. “That sounds good, babe, pretty much all I’ve got energy for.”

Clarke smirks, pleased with herself and then paws at Bellamy’s chest to get him to let her go so she can go retrieve her laptop. Bellamy retreats to the bathroom and takes another quick shower, washing the oil and come off his body, and then helps Clarke quickly change the sheets on her bed before they’re back under the covers and Bellamy’s spooning her, propped up on pillows so they can both see the screen. Bellamy doesn’t really watch whatever it is Clarke’s put on, some mellow drama, just tucks his nose into her neck and half drifts, happy to be close to her and feel her thumb stroking along his where he’s interlaced their fingers on her stomach. 

He knows if he tells her that this is all he wants, her body tucked into his, her little intakes of breath when something exciting apparently happens on screen, Clarke loving him and happy, that he’ll have to cop to being the lame one between them, but that’s ok. He tells her anyway, once he’s half asleep face smushed into her shoulder and Clarke reaches back to touch his mouth.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “Me too, Bellamy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hang out on Tumblr! [Come drop me a line](http://verbam.tumblr.com)
> 
> Comments and Kudos seriously always brighten my day!!


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